FicWad

Remember when I used to write like this? Yeah, me neither. No idea why I'm posting it.

Anchored down, tied down,
Bruised, battered, broken,
You’re a joke, a sad clown,
That keeps words unspoken.

Your sleeves hide the abuse,
You’re a mime artist by day,
So at night you lose
Control of what you want to say.

You steal money from a purse,
And head out of the club,
To the hidden hearse,
Your heart’s drug.

You abuse yourself again,
But you don’t have a choice,
You couldn’t be restrained,
Addiction stole your voice.

If you’d know this from the start, you wouldn’t have let it begin,
If you’d known what you do kno, needles wouldn’t have been pushed in,
If you could travel back in time, you would never have started,
Because it’s left you as a shell; empty, departed.